


Through the Glass Partition

by Infinitely_Odd



Series: Meanwhile, In Night Vale [5]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: A Smiling God, Angst, Bad Things Happen to Cecil Palmer, Body Horror, Cecil Has A Third Eye, Cecil Has Tentacles, Cecil Whump, Cecil is Mostly Human, During Canon, Fluff and Angst, Horror, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mild Gore, Minor Violence, Protective Carlos, Strexcorp Takeover, Strexcorp is Evil, during the strex takeover, mild mentions of vomiting, shadow creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinitely_Odd/pseuds/Infinitely_Odd
Summary: When Night Vale Community Radio is bought out by StrexCorp, something changes.-Set during the StrexCorp takeover. Carlos realises that not all is golden, and Cecil is Not Okay.-Please read the trigger warnings in the first note, but be aware they may contain spoilers for the fic. Let me know if anything needs to be added! Thank you <3
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Series: Meanwhile, In Night Vale [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553950
Comments: 5
Kudos: 117





	Through the Glass Partition

**Author's Note:**

> The art that inspired this work. Please support the artist.  
> https://shazzbaa.tumblr.com/image/63472428339  
> \-   
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:   
> First break: mentions of blood and violence. Nothing explicit.  
> Second break: Explicit descriptions of a character with a broken neck. Possibly unsettling descriptions of smiling. Lauren threatens Carlos subtly. Implied murder of character with broken neck. Psychological distress. Mention of gaslighting (though none happens)  
> Third break: Mentions of psychological distress, and Cecil gets a deep cut. It's implied that Lauren did that to him. Mentions of blood.  
> Fourth break: Shadow monsters, Cecil is held captive. Mild mentions of body horror and smiles. Carlos vomits, no graphic depictions.   
> Fifth break: Crying, mild psychological distress.   
> \-   
> Tumblr: @oddpyromaniac  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bibliokleptic_aziraphale/  
> Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/99760524-eldritch-abomination

When Night Vale Community Radio is bought out by StrexCorp, something changes. 

It isn't obvious immediately. In fact, for the first few weeks, Carlos doesn't notice anything strange. He even forgets that Night Vale Community Radio isn't owned by station management anymore- only remembering when Cecil comes home completely unscathed. Normally he has scratches, or is covered in blood (not his own, he assures Carlos, but the scientist worries anyway because Cecil is drenched), or has an obvious limp he tries to hide. 

But one night, a few days after the announcement of StrexCorp's takeover, he comes home completely fine. They have dinner together. Too much wine and a large meal lead to a lazy evening on the couch watching bad movies. Cecil is curled up against Carlos' side, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt, while Carlos' arm is around Cecil's waist, holding him tight. It's a perfect night. Cecil radiates warmth and Carlos wants to cuddle him forever and ever. 

When the last movie ends Cecil grins up at Carlos, his eyes are the colour of coal and glint in the shitty lights in Cecil's apartment, and Cecil kisses him deeply. Carlos returns the kiss eagerly, pulling Cecil up and into their bedroom. 

Later that night, when Cecil is pretending to sleep and Carlos is still awake, he realises that there's not been an incident with station management in a while. Not since StrexCorp took over. He sighs in relief, still thinking about one of the first radio shows he heard, with Cecil hiding under his desk with station management on the prowl. Carlos is certain an intern died that day, too. 

He can't be sad that station management isn't in charge anymore. He's tired of Cecil returning home bloody and bruised, or coming home sad because he's had to advertise for new interns, or being threatened with station management referring him to city hall for "re-education"- something that Carlos is unsure about, but the wording sends shivers down his spine.

The first night Cecil comes home unscathed Carlos doesn't think too much about it. 

* * *

Life in Night Vale continued without much else happening. Carlos worked, as usual, poking at the house that didn't exist, trying to work out how Night Vale was still standing. As he walked down the main street, there wasn't much wrong, if anything, and yet everything seemed different. The atmosphere was different. People side-eyed him as he walked past, which in itself wasn't unusual- he was dating the voice of Night Vale and was somewhat of a celebrity in the town, but there was something odd.

They smiled at him- if it could be called that. Their smiles were stretched thinly over their pallid faces, lips pale with the strain of pulling their mouths into the thin line. As Carlos walked, he realised everyone was like that. None spoke to him or offered him a hello or even a nod. He frowned, confused as to why everyone in Night Vale was acting so strange. Stranger than usual at least. 

Before he could continue his journey, someone had gripped him by the arm and yanked him back. Carlos spun, ready to confront whatever or whoever had hauled him back like this. His arm ached and the skin under his labcoat burned where his arm was held in a tight grip. The person holding him was a woman, one he hadn't seen before. She had dark skin and dark, curly hair, and didn't look much older than twenty. Carlos opened his mouth to speak but she held a finger over her own lips, silencing him. 

Then, she took her index fingers and hooked them into the corners of her mouth and pulled, stretching her lips taut until they were pale and the dry skin began to crack. A horrific caricature of a happy face. Fear lodged itself in Carlos' stomach, small and painfully cold, turning his blood to ice. Her eyes grew wide and frantic, she pulled her lips wider, emphasising what she wanted Carlos to do. With fear gripping his throat, and with a degree of hesitance, Carlos smiled. 

The frantic look in her eyes softened and her hands fell limply by her side. A thin line of blood pooled where her lips had cracked, but the grin on her face never faltered once. "Are you happy, Carlos?" She asked.

Her voice was hoarse and thick as if she'd been screaming, or had a cold- an unusual occurrence in Night Vale. Carlos didn't reply. "Our Smiling God doesn't like if we are sad," She continued, her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "So you must smile. Our Smiling God insists. You don't want to anger our- our Smiling God." Her eyes grew frantic once more as she leaned forward. "Do you believe in a Smiling God, Carlos the Scientist?" 

Carlos' stomach dropped, the air suddenly cooling. Night Vale had Gods, an abundance of them, but none seemed as sinister as this one. Cecil had never mentioned a Smiling God before. "You should go. The Voice will begin to worry. He won't be happy anymore." The woman leaned back, still smiling, turned on her heels and walked away. Carlos did the same, walking in the direction he had been intending to- towards the radio station. The Voice was a nickname for Cecil, and he had to admit it was a pretty great nickname. The Voice had a certain power to it, much like how Cecil had power. He was the heart and soul of the little desert town. 

He continued along the street, the previous events completely forgotten, drowned out by the gentle thoughts of his boyfriend.

Nothing was amiss when he first reached the station either. 

He swiped a bloody finger on the front door which allowed Carlos to enter. Station management was nowhere to be seen. The drab and dreary walls had been repainted, and fairly recently too. Instead of grey walls covered with mysterious stains, each surface was painted a gaudy yellow. The walls were also covered with posters, all overlapping and some peeling at the edges. 

They all contained a single command: smile. 

A new intern sat at the desk. Usually, Carlos would make polite conversation with whatever intern had been banished to the reception desk. Cecil had advertised for a new receptionist (the last had been vaporised) but people had yet to apply. However, today it was different. A new intern sat there, but she wore a bright yellow shirt, a far cry from NVCR's usual purple, furthermore her face was contorted into a smile. An unfeeling, dead-eyed smile. 

Carlos paused at the desk, the air cooling suddenly. Her neck bent at an unnatural angle in his direction so that her lifeless eyes and weird smile were facing him, an audible snap echoed throughout the corridor and bile rose in Carlos' throat. 

"Cecil may see you now," She said, her voice totally normal as if she was just sitting at the desk without the broken neck or fucked up mouth. Carlos nodded shakily and quickly moved on.

Fortunately, Cecil was in his booth, reading over his notes while the weather played. Carlos' heart leapt in his chest and he knocked gently on the window partition, gaining Cecil's attention. Cecil's grin wasn't like the girls. It was heartfelt and genuine and filled with warmth. He beckoned for Carlos to enter, which he did. 

"Hey babe," Carlos greeted, kissing Cecil on the tip of his nose. 

"Carlos! What a pleasant surprise, I wasn't expecting you today." 

"The lab is quiet today. Besides, my team of scientists and I are testing a piece of lime green mould I found on the bottom of the desk in my lab, so I need to wait a little longer for the results, and I figured who would I rather kill time with? You, of course!" 

Cecil flushed a gorgeous shade of lavender and rested his chin on his palm, gazing into Carlos' eyes with a lovesick look across his pale features. "Well, thank you for coming to spend the weather with me, it's been particularly quiet today." 

Carlos hummed in contemplation. "That's not like Night Vale." Cecil shrugged. "By the way," Carlos added, "Did you get a new intern or receptionist?" 

"Oh, yes, Lauren thought that we needed a new receptionist as soon as possible so she brought in an intern from StrexCorp."

For a few seconds, Carlos didn't say anything. The image of her broken neck lingered in his mind. "Is...is she okay?"

Cecil, for the most part, looked confused but didn't make any inclination towards knowing about the receptionists' current state of being. "I mean, she's a little quiet. You can't be shy when working in radio, or with the public. But she seems like a sweet girl. Did you meet her on your way in?" Carlos nodded. He wondered if Cecil had met her before her neck had been snapped. He wondered what she had done to deserve that punishment. He wondered if she was really dead, or if she was somehow still alive, like a puppet. He also wondered if she had a family, one who would miss her if she went missing. Did Cecil know what had happened to her?

"She seemed nice," Carlos replied, noncommittally. 

"I'm glad you thought so," Cecil said. "She seemed interested in working her way up to being a secretary in a big company someday. I asked her: 'Don't you want to work in radio?'. She replied: 'No. Not really. I like patterns, and organising things, and being useful. I like sitting at my desk. Lauren says when I work here for a month I can add pictures and plants and even a tiny replica of Big Rico's. I'm very excited.' and of course, dear Carlos, I'm not one to stand in the way of her being the World's Best Receptionist. Though, I'm not sure such a thing exists, who am I to tell her otherwise?"

Carlos nodded, agreeing that the idea of a "Best" anything was entirely subjective, but letting the girl be ambitious wouldn't do her any harm. 

Except, now, Carlos was certain she wouldn't be the best receptionist. A horrible sinking feeling in his stomach made him clasp it, causing Cecil to ask about him in a concerned tone of voice. She would never be the best receptionist or have plants and pictures or a miniature replica of Big Rico's on her desk. Now, Carlos wasn't even sure if she would be there on his way out.

The weather began to fade, and with a face filled with regret, Cecil turned back to his soundboard. "You're welcome to stay, though it'd have to be under the guise of an interview, Lauren doesn't like unscheduled or unhelpful guests." He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, bunny."

Carlos decided he didn't like Lauren much. "It's fine, I should really check up on my team." He stood and walked over to the door. "I'll go shopping on the way home. You okay with fish for dinner?"

Cecil nodded eagerly. "Remember, the more eyes the better. I can't wait." 

With a final wave, Carlos opened the door, and almost smacked into someone attempting to walk in. Carlos quickly jumped back, apologising incessantly. The person he had almost walked into was a woman. Not tall, not short, nor fat nor thin. But she reminded him a little bit of Dana. 

She was so different from Dana, however. Her eyes were colder, her body language closed off and suspicious. She eyed Carlos like he would explode any second. She moved around so her back was to Cecil. "Cecil?" She asked, voice lined with something poisonous. "Who is this?"

"Ah, Lauren. Carlos, this is Lauren our new station management. Lauren, this is Carlos, my-" His mouth snapped shut, suddenly backtracking. Carlos tried not to let the sudden pause get to him. " _Our..._ resident scientist."

Within an instant, her entire demeanour changed. "Oh, that Carlos!" She cried, grasping his hand and shaking it hard. "I've heard _so many_ good things about you from Cecil. You two are very...close, I understand?" 

Carlos' eyes darted behind Lauren and caught Cecil growing horrifically pale. His eyes widened and his tattoos began to draw up his arm until they were fully covered. For the first time, Cecil _looked scared_. 

"You could say that," Carlos replied, doing his best to smile. 

Lauren grinned. Her mouth stretched out, wider than was normal for a regular human, but nothing like the residents of Night Vale he had seen this morning. Only a small detail of her had changed. Enough to unsettle him, but enough that if he questioned her, it'd be easy to blame it on the light, or on his mind. So, so easy to gaslight. "How _wonderful_." She drawled. 

Then, like the flick of a switch, she spun around to face Cecil. "I just came in to drop these off," She said, planting a large stack of notes onto Cecil's desk. "They're letters from StrexCorp, the higher-ups, you know the drill. Numbers, figures, contracts, and a few things we want you to add into your show. Okay?"

"Alright," Cecil said, flicking through the pages. He came across a message that stopped him in his tracks, one that Carlos couldn't read. "Are you certain you want me to read all of-" 

"Yes, Cecil." Lauren snapped. Carlos flinched, but Cecil remained staring at her. His lips were pressed thin, pale with stress. "I mean, _yes please, Cecil_. StrexCorp wants you to, and bad things will happen if the higher-ups get mad, and we can't have that happen to our favourite radio host." Her voice dripped with acid and honey. Carlos pictured her voice jagged, then melting into a black liquid that caressed their faces, soothing Cecil and him until her voice was wrapped around their throats and pulling tight. "Or any of that favourite radio host's loved ones." She added, quietly. 

Cecil locked eyes with Carlos. He was shaking, they both were. "I think your team will be wanting you back," Cecil said, voice deep and strictly professional. Carlos nodded, said a quick goodbye, and left. 

The girl wasn't at the reception desk. Instead, a trail of blood lead from her seat to the closet previously titled 'Spare Limbs', it read: 'Station Management- Lauren Mallard'. Trying not to think too hard, Carlos rushed out and back to his lab. The mould hadn't changed but was now singing a pop tune he thought Abel might have liked. When Carlos came into the area where the mould was being held, the tune changed, now radiating a soft melancholy sound that broke the poor scientists' heart. 

Carlos left early. 

Cecil arrived home at his usual time. Carlos, as planned, was making fish for them both. He called out to Cecil, who stumbled into the kitchen and almost face-planted onto the floor. 

"Cecil!" Carlos cried, rushing forward and catching the host before he could seriously injure himself. "Cecil? Cecil are you okay? Answer me, babe." 

"She wasn't at the desk." Carlos' breath hitched. Cecil continued, voice filled with despair. "I- I asked about her but...Lauren said...she...wasn't there." 

Wrapping Cecil in his arms, Carlos led him to their bed. Dinner in bed was a luxury reserved for special occasions and moments like this. Neither of them spoke, just ate their fish in silence. The occasional crunch of a bone placed Carlos back in front of that receptionist. Cecil's gaze was far away as if he were out of Night Vale entirely. Carlos cleaned up, then returned to bed, lying next to his boyfriend. 

Cecil wasn't in a talking mood, and Carlos wasn't in a touching one anymore. So Carlos turned off the light and tried to sleep. A few seconds later, Cecil's pinky finger slid around his own. It didn't grip tight, a silent invitation to pull away if necessary, but a clear craving for a little bit of contact. Carlos smiled, wrapping their fingers together and falling into a restless sleep.

* * *

Though Carlos loved Cecil not coming home bloody and bruised, how he had been coming home lately was worse.

It was easy enough to clean wounds. To stitch gashes, to plaster cuts, to kiss bruises and cuddle away aches. But the psychological damages were far harder to fix. Cecil had become cold, he didn't flinch, he didn't hug, he didn't babble on about things that Carlos once found funny but unimportant but now longed to hear. 

He wasn't mean, or rude, no, Cecil was just distant, and somehow that was so much worse. 

Carlos had turned down the radio at work too. He still needed Cecil's voice to fill the void, but the aura of Lauren remained. Cecil's words were tainted. They sounded artificial, like all the joy he once found in radio had been sucked out of him. 

He tried so hard to be normal. Cecil tried, he really did. There were attempts at jokes, some poking fun at Steve Carlsberg, and with Carlos, they kissed and hugged and cooked together. But Cecil had something blocking him mentally, it seemed. He'd cut off sentences, forget what he was doing out of the blue, suddenly Carlos would find him a million miles away but physically still in the apartment.

There was a glass partition between them. Carlos stood on the outside, a hand on the glass, tears pouring down his face. On the other side, Cecil sat at his desk. He couldn't see Cecil's expression, but his shoulders shook and his hands clutched the desk tightly, illuminated by a single bare lightbulb that hung precariously from the ceiling. Oh, how Carlos wanted to break that damn partition, to gather Cecil in his arms and promise that he'd never let anything or anyone hurt him ever again.

But the light would go out, and Carlos would be left alone on his side of the glass. 

* * *

Sometimes he visits Cecil at work. 

It's a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, even if only for a few minutes. Those few minutes will make Carlos' entire day. Cecil is always glad to see him. Greeting him with a kiss, or a question about an interview, or with a factoid Carlos longs to correct but never does. 

It's three weeks after he meets Lauren that Cecil comes home one night sporting a large cut down one arm. His tattoos swirl around it delicately, unsure of how to react. The way Cecil stumbles in, right into Carlos and manages to smear a line of blood down his shirt shows that maybe Cecil is unsure of what happened too. 

Carlos pushes down his questions and leads his boyfriend to their bathroom. 

The cut is deeper than it looks, and once it's cleaned and disinfected it begins to heal almost instantly. But Cecil likes it when Carlos presses a cute plaster to his cuts and kisses them better. He does so again, earning himself a soft smile from his boyfriend. 

But it shortly disappears. Instead, Cecil looks away. "I don't think you should come to the station for a while." 

Carlos freezes, his smile vanishing too. "What? Why?" Cecil avoids his gaze, his eyes swirl and change colour from grey to black. "Was it something I did?"

This time, Cecil lunges forward and grasps Carlos' face. "No! It's not that at all, it's-" Cecil bites his lip, halting the words before they can escape his big mouth. 

"Is it...Is Lauren not happy with me?" Cecil doesn't answer. "Am...am I in danger?" Cecil, once again, looks away. Carlos gulps. "Are you in danger?"

Cecil's silence speaks louder than anything he could have said. Carlos wraps his arm and kisses it gently, Cecil's smile returns, but is less bright than before, and Carlos can't help but wonder what the hell they got themselves into. 

* * *

It takes a week for Carlos to give in and return to the station. 

Cecil's mental state has only declined since he last asked Carlos not to stop by anymore. He comes home silent, and goes to bed early, and spends way too long staring at the ceiling. Dark bags have formed under his eyes, and more often than not, Carlos just finds him staring into space.

It took a week, but Carlos bites the bullet. When he enters the station, something is instantly off. The reception desk is still empty. The walls are still yellow, but now they're spattered with a dried, dark liquid that Carlos doesn't want to think too hard about. But there's something else. Someone is speaking. The voice grows louder and louder as Carlos tip-toes down the corridor, the closer he gets to Cecil's booth, the louder it gets. When he reaches the glass partition, Carlos realises it's Cecil who's speaking, with his voice being projected around the entire building, and possibly all of Night Vale.

Cecil's voice echoed all around him. 

_We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe._

The radio host himself is sitting at his desk, hunched over and seemingly unresponsive. The single lightbulb swings gently, despite there being no ventilation. The _**On-Air**_ sign behind Cecil flickers without rhythm or meaning, it just makes Carlos feel sick.

The temperature of the air plummets and Carlos tugs his lab coat further around his torso. He knocks on the glass partition between them, not caring that the mic will pick it up and Lauren will probably be angry. Cecil doesn't stir. The lightbulb begins to sway more violently. The sign behind the radio host flickers more and more.

Carlos begins to pound on the glass. 

Whatever the glass is made from, or strengthened with, means it doesn't budge. Perfect for continuous earthquakes, or demons, or Gods, not so much for distressed boyfriends. With each collision of his fists on the glass, the room begins to swirl more. At first, it's not noticeable. The blub swings, the sign flickers, Cecil doesn't move. Then, one by one, shadows begin to move around the room following the movement of the lightbulb. They extend and fold in on each other, following a certain course around the room, flowing in concentric circles and gaining speed with every lap. 

As they grow faster, the combined force of the shadows seems to create a breeze, then a gale, then a hurricane. Papers are flying, Cecil's hair whips around his face, and Carlos sees the pain in his eyes, all three of them open. They're staring at the table while his lips mouth words that repeat over and over and over again. 

_We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe._ _We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe. We are fine. We are completely safe._

Panic grows within Carlos until he's screaming wordlessly for help, for Cecil, to snap out of it, dammit! But no one listens. Instead, the wind inside the booth grows stronger by the second. Cecil jerks forward, lurching for a pen which he manages to grab before it's whipped off the table. Carlos tries to get his attention once more, but his gaze is trained onto a piece of paper, he's scribbling something that Carlos can't read. 

Then, all the breath rushes out of Carlos at once. 

Behind Cecil, on the wall, something begins to grow. It has arms long and thin like a spider, it grows lopsidedly, one half of it growing faster than the other until it becomes a deformed blob. Its movements are jerky and mistimed, like a baby deer from hell testing out new limbs. Once it's as high as the wall behind Cecil with six spider legs on either side of it, they begin to thicken and grow. They stretch as long as the walls themselves, cutting through the other shadows and absorbing them. 

As the storm reaches its climax, the shadows find a new point to focus on. Whatever shadow creature is hovering over Cecil. The shadows swirl into the stomach of whatever looms, and with every new addition it grows taller, thinner, begins to take shape. When the shadows have all been absorbed, the shadow blob with spider legs has become leaner and more, dare he say it, human. It has no face or features, but six human arms extend out of its torso and begin to wind their way around Cecil as the wind grows ever stronger.

The microphone is knocked off its stand, causing an ear-piercing screech of feedback to replace Cecil's mantra. Carlos curls in on himself, begging the high pitched whine to stop. Even throughout it, Cecil keeps talking. 

When Carlos stands the microphone is rolling around the floor along with what little furniture they have in the studio. However, Cecil remains hunched over at his desk, scribbling something. The shadow man stills, two arms wrapped around Cecil, the other four plastered against the walls.

The lightbulb smashes and all light vanishes. Occasionally Cecil is lit up by the sign behind him, illuminating the danger. Finally, the wind stops, the **_On-Air_** sign glows brighter than ever before, bathing everything in red, and Cecil flings his head up to stare straight at Carlos. His eyes are violet, wide with fear, the red glow haloes him like it would an angel. Cecil is frozen, stuck in his chair, and Carlos can't move either.

Two shadow hands cover Cecil's mouth. Behind him, the shadow man is grinning. Wide and inhuman, his head cocked to the side like a curious child. The pair of arms nearest the ceiling stretch along it disappearing around the corners Carlos is closest to and can't see, creating a barrier Carlos can't pass. His final two are bent towards Cecil. Thin lines hand from his fingers hanging down to where Cecil's elbows are perched on the table, his features still the epitome of fear. A puppetmaster, silencing his puppet, preventing help, and controlling his every move. 

The fingers move as Cecil hesitantly reaches forward for a piece of paper hanging off the desk, his eyes trained on Carlos. The rest are scattered on the floor, Cecil's mantra printed on them all. Carlos feels like he might vomit.

With a gulp, and the hands tightening around his mouth, the shadow strings move as Cecil holds up the paper and turns it around. His hands shake, and his eyes are filled with horror. 

The paper reads one thing: _**Run**_. 

Carlos does. He turns on his heel and sprints. He doesn't look back until he's out on the street in the blazing sun. Later, he'll regret being cowardly. He'll regret leaving Cecil with that thing. But when he races down the street, smiling like a goddamn maniac despite the fear and shame that suffocate him, passing Big Rico's, passing the dog park, and eventually passing out on Steve, Abby, and Janice Palmer-Carlsberg's doorstep, Carlos can't even believe that he's alive. 

Then the sickness starts, and he vomits all over Steve who found him and helped him indoors. Abby shushes him while he sobs about Cecil until he vomits again, Abby shouts at Janice to stay in her room which Carlos knows she'll apologise for later. He cries and vomits until he passes out again, and reawakens with Steve telling him that _Cecil is home and Cecil is safe and Cecil is home._

Carlos weakly hugs Janice, and thanks Abby more times than he can count. Despite not being close to Cecil, she nods and asks him to look after her brother, and make sure he looks after you, Carlos.

"He already is," Carlos replied. "He's put himself in so much danger for me, for the town. I don't know how to help."

Abby doesn't either. She offers him a side hug and helps him into Steve's car. 

* * *

Cecil is, indeed, home when Carlos returns. He promised to take care of them both. Steve makes a comment about how good Carlos is for Cecil, how much happier Cecil's been, and how much he loves both his brother-in-law his boyfriend.

Carlos opened the front door gently, hoping not to startle Cecil. He doesn't, instead, he finds the radio host on the sofa staring into space once more. His eyes are trained on the patterned carpet he received as a consolation prize for a competition he didn't remember entering but lost anyway. 

With a soft thud, Carlos placed himself in front of Cecil, kneeling before him. His boyfriend still wears that petrified expression, but he seems less doll-like now. His entire body begins to tremble, his eyes dart left and right before finally finding Carlos' face, when he does, Cecil begins to cry. 

Slow tears, no sobs, and Carlos can't help but join in. 

The couple cry silently, but together. Wiping and kissing tears away until both are breathless and no longer shaking. Instead, they both go and lie in their bed. No time for pyjamas, no want for completely stripping off. They lie, and they cuddle, and they cry.

"I love you," Cecil whispered into the dead of the night.

"I love you too," Carlos replied.

"They're going to hurt us. Me, you, our loved ones, and those we do not like. Everyone. No one will be spared, regardless of if you're smiling or not. They- I have to stop them." 

Carlos hugs him tighter. "Do you have a plan?"

A small, shaky breath is his answer. " _No_." 

"It's okay, we can sort this out, as a community. We can win. We will." 

Cecil nods, and something small blooms in Carlos' chest. The pair don't sleep, not for a while, but eventually Cecil's breath evens out and Carlos figures even if he only pretends, it's a calming state of mind to be in. 

Tomorrow is for planning rebellions. 

Tonight, being together is more than enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> is this rushed? hell yee  
> did i just post? also yes  
> do i regretti spahgethhi? no  
> i reallt wanted cecil whump but i guess i have to write it myself 
> 
> its like,,,12;30 in the morning, i should sleep  
> also ya girl is seeing WTNV live so uh, if anyones going to the glasgow show HMU cause im going alone ahah
> 
> okay ty for reading, bookmark and comment if you like love you


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